


Three hearts

by Eilisande



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:21:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23804515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eilisande/pseuds/Eilisande
Summary: John Gray has loved Jaimie Fraser unconditionally for many years. John knows it, Claire knows it and Jaimie, even if he claims the opposite, knows it but act as if he doesn't. Two men together, it's unnatural and even if sometimes the idea did not seem as amoral to him, the specter of Black Jack Randall still hangs around him. Claire could hate John for that, but finds herself strangely ready to accept the situation. And when a letter from John with terrible news arrives at Fraser's Ridge, everything is forever turned upside down.
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser/Lord John Grey
Comments: 26
Kudos: 76





	1. Claire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation of one of my texts, let me know what you think of it.

Claire only needed a glance to know that John Gray was totally and irremediably in love with her husband, and she had only known him for a few seconds. She could have hated him for that, but she had spent the past twenty years loving Jamie with passion despite the certainty that he had been dead for two centuries and forever lost to her, so her first feeling was compassion. After all, falling in love with Jamie was as simple as breathing. Staying in love with him was terribly exhilarating but could overwhelm you. John Gray looked like a drowning man who could breathe again. Then, he had seen Claire, understood who she was and turned white, despite himself. Claire had then looked discreetly at Jamie and noticed the fondness mixed with pity in his eyes. He knew about Lord John's desperate love for him. For Claire, this was the most surprising news. She knew only too well about Jamie's aversion to this kind of "perversion", to use the words of the century, especially after Randall. That he knew of John Gray's love and still continues to hold him in high regard said that the governor was an exceptional man and worthy of his friendship.

Claire and John Gray had barely talked that evening, either about Jamie or anything else. Geilis' arrival, and what followed, had upset all their plans for the evening and more. All the same, the governor had made a good impression on her, almost despite herself. He had also saved Jamie from prison and perhaps even from a quick and infamous execution. Claire was indebted to him. 

The next days and weeks, Jamie told her a few things about the man behind the governor's mask. He was reluctant at first and kept quite a few details for himself. Nevertheless, Claire was moved. She did not feel affection for lord John but pitied his useless fight against his feelings for Jamie.

She made the decision to write to him, one day. At the beginning of their stay in America, she found neither the time nor the energy. But, when they were finally settled down at River Run, while Jamie was busy preparing their journey to their new home, she finally took the pen, feeling guilty for not notifying the kind governor earlier. She dipped the quill in the inkwell and stood there for a moment. What could she possibly say to a man in love with her husband? Conciseness seemed necessary. At the same time, she wanted to reassure him about Jamie's health. 

" _ Lord John _ ," she wrote,

" _ I think you will be relieved to hear that Jamie and I, and all our companions, have emerged from our latest mishaps unscathed. Jamie has told you, I believe, some of our Parisian and Scottish adventures, sou you will not be surprised to learn that it was not without difficulty. I only regret that I couldn't take the time to come back to personally thank you for everything you did for Jamie in front of the lieutenant who wanted to imprison him but also in the last few years. May I assure you of my friendship. C.F. _ "

Rereading itself, she decided that the letter managed not to be too dry, as she had feared at the start. It would do the work. The letter was immediately entrusted to a slave from the plantation to be sent as soon as possible. Claire did not want to feel regrets having finally written it.

She did not expect an answer. Lord John had no reason to seek her friendship and all the reasons in the world to hate her. The same was true for her, of course, and she nevertheless took the time to write to him. Maybe they had the same way of thinking.

" _ Mrs. Fraser _ ," said the letter,

" _ I cannot find the words to tell you the extent of my relief when I learn that you and your companions were unharmed. I also confess I am not surprised, but very intrigued by these latest events. On the other hand, you are mistaken if you think Jamie told me the details of your adventures at the time of our friendship. I assure you that your memory was too painful for him to expand on this subject. The few adventures we have lived side by side, however, give me an idea of what you have just experienced. Jamie is many things but not a boring company. Trouble and danger seem to follow him everywhere. So I am happy to see that the wife he has chosen has the same talents. Only, I will have to live in worry from now on, not knowing in which wasp nest your respective skills will lead you the next time.  _

_ "You assured me of your friendship. I hope you know, madam, that you also have mine, and all my respect. Lord John Gray _ . "

This letter might have displeased Claire, but it didn't. She expected to feel jealousy as she read Lord John's affection for Jamie and the knowledge he had acquired of his character during her absence. These few sentences might have seemed condescending and sly, but it was written with caustic humour. Claire read the letter and felt something like complicity. A smile arose on her lips which she did not try to suppress. Impulsively, she grabbed his pen again.

_ "Dear Lord John, _

_ "You can't even imagine this animal's latest whim. _

She stopped when she realized the degree of intimacy she had put in these few words. Claire hesitated. This familiarity could displease the governor and seem condescending to the one who was, de facto, her rival of a sort. However, her instinct had dictated this sentence, and she chose to listen to it. Rereading herself a little later by candlelight, she decided that it would do the trick. If he was shocked by her familiarity, Lord John would stop all correspondence. Otherwise, the idea of having a regular correspondent amused her. It would be like these epistolary novels, so numerous in the 18th century. It was strange to think that some of the most famous had not yet been written.

Her hesitations turned out to be excessive. Lord John answered her in the same tone. They exchanged several missives, even after their leaving of River Run and the installation at Fraser's Ridge. Sometimes one or the other would send two letters in a row without waiting for a response. They talked about various things, the plantation's activities, the setbacks of the colony... And always, they talked about Jamie, sometimes openly, sometimes not. John's love for Jamie remained unsaid in this correspondence even if it was obvious. It was the tacit condition for the continuation of their exchanges. Little by little, the letters became longer and their content more intimate. 

A few months passed. Their settlement grew. 

"Be careful, auntie Claire", Ian joked one day handing her her mail. "People will say that ye have a lover."

"Absurd," she laughed. "I just exchange with Lord John some platitudes about his citizens and our neighbours."

Jamie's surprised look made her realize that she hadn't informed him of this correspondence. He gave her a long, unreadable look, then concentrated again on the planks he sawed. It was impossible to know whether the thing surprised, amused or frightened him. Whether he approved or disapproved didn't matter anyway; he had no say in Claire's friendships. She did not open the letter but put it away without opening in her apron. The rest of the day was quiet. They did not talk about that awkward moment. There was much to do in the settlement, after all.

They ate with the family. After the meal, Claire left the table to stand by the fire and retrieved her letter. That time, she noticed the package was thicker than usual. She also saw the curious looks of Ian, Fergus and Marsali but ignored them. As for Jamie strange side look in her direction, she couldn't miss that. 

"When ye write him back, salute Lord John for me", he finally said.

"Of course, I'll do that", replied Claire as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "He would probably even be delighted to read a few lines from your hand."

Jamie only answered with that typical Scottish grunt that could say anything and nothing but Claire could see him smile, just a little. He turned back to Ian and Fergus to discuss next day's work. At this point, they had a roof over their heads but not much else. Now, it was his turn to ignore the curious looks of the rest of their little family. All uneasiness between them seemed to be gone, but Claire knew a lengthy discussion awaited them once they were in bed or that night. They never talked about what John felt for Jamie. Behind his feigned indifference, Jamie must have many questions. He probably didn't want to betray his friend's secret to Claire. Of course, she was notoriously bad at hiding her feelings. Maybe her face had betrayed everything she had understood when they met the governor. Jamie must knew that she knew. 

It was a little ridiculous. Speculating was useless, so Claire began to read. 

There were actually two letters in the oilcloth package that served as an envelope, written eleven days apart. Claire grabbed the first one and started to laugh. As always, John's dry humour made her smile. His pen was often dipped in vitriol, and he knew like no other how to find the irony of a situation and make fun of the stupidity of his peers. As far as Claire knew, he would never have uttered out loud what he said in writing. His sense of decorum was too strong. In the meantime, she feasted on these stories of Jamaica's planter society and the absurd rivalries of those English who pretended to be at Buckingham Palace for a few hours then went back to their plantations where they sometimes shared their dining room with pigs. Everything she saw and hated at River Run, because of her 20th century's morality, was ridiculed here. At first, John had seemed reluctant to talk about the most disgraceful issues, particularly concerning slavery, undoubtedly so as not to offend her feminine sensitivity. Now they were arguing vehemently about it, and that was the subject the governor addressed in his letter. He totally agreed with her on the issue of slave's treatment and declared himself ready to listen to her advice about hygiene to improve their lives. However, he was still far from what would soon be called an abolitionist. Claire calculated that it would take a few more years for this movement to really emerged. At least, if John maintained that slavery, although repugnant, was necessary for the economy of Great Britain, he was uncompromisingly reluctant to chase the runaway slaves who had taken refuge inland.

"John is fine", Claire announced to Jamie while turning the last page of this first letter. "His two main concerns are the disputes of drunk sailors at the port and a heritage quarrel between planters."

"I'm not looking forward to having those here," Fergus shivered excessively. "Fences disputes are good enough for now."

"Aye. And it's important to settle these now to avoid this kind of conflict later", Jamie asserted without taking his eyes from the plans they were consulting. "I dinna envy him."

Claire nodded and started reading the second letter. She swore between her teeth, causing Jamie to turn around.

"I can't wait for the postal system to get better on this continent. John is referring to a previous letter that is missing from this package. I imagine that all these letters reached a port on different dates and the other one got lost en route."

"A few more years to wait. Those things take time."

"In the Thirteen Colonies perhaps, but the rest of America will have to wait another few decades," replied Claire absently, taking up the letter that in her frustration she had dropped on her knees. "Strange, he never wrote to me so often. Three letters in eleven days?"

Jamie frowned while Claire tried to remember if something dramatic had happened in Jamaica in 1768. Nothing came back to her. Unfortunately, if she had studied the history of Scotland well to prepare for her trip back in time, she never thought that the British colonies' history might be useful to her. Full of apprehension, she noticed that the writing was unusually shaky and the letter smeared with ink stains. So, she quickly looked over the letter in search of bad news. Five words caught her eye. She uttered a cry of anguish.

" _ If I don't survive _ . "

Jamie jumped up, grabbed the letter, then hesitated. Finally, he gave it back to her. He apologised to Claire. That letter was not for him.

Only it was, so Claire cleared her throat and read it aloud.

_ "My dear friend, _

_ "As I anticipated and wrote in my previous letter, the situation at the harbour has not improved. These sick sailors have definitely contracted a virulent form of yellow fever, which has spread very quickly in the neighbourhoods near the port. The promiscuity of these sailors with the dregs of our small Jamaican society did nothing to help the situation. Without this cursed fever, the colonisation of the Americas would be much more advanced today, and now it kills in the colony I have to govern in the name of the king. I feel helpless in the face of this twist of fate, especially since the fever hit me at last. However, I do not lose hope of recovering from it, but if I do not survive, my servant will take care to send you this letter. _

_ "I did not want to worry you, so I downplayed the seriousness of the situation in my last letter. Alas, now I cannot hide from you that even as I wrote to you, I recognised the first symptoms of the disease. Perhaps I could have seen them earlier if I hadn't been too busy trying to resolve things before it was too late. The fever fell yesterday at noon. I regained enough strength to hold a quill and work for a while. Only the fever has seized me again in the last few hours, more virulent than ever. My doctor assures me that this is normal and expected, as are my other symptoms. I know how much you revel in details that would horrify an ordinary mortal, so you'll be pleased to learn that I vomit as regularly as possible a liquid as black as the water that can be found in Hell. I'll add that I am nauseous every time I try to get up and that my shivering explains why you'll find this letter barely readable. I confess I banished the mirror in my room. I do not care to admire the yellow complexion that I display, and you will allow me to remain silent about what happens when I need to eliminate. _

_ "Usually, I would not worry. I have the robust constitution of a soldier after all, but in the past nine days, more than one in two patients died of this fever. I am not afraid of death, even if I dislike the idea of being defeated by this insidious enemy, and I am not more worried about the idea of meeting my Creator. He knows my sins, and I can only hope for his indulgence. My... _

"That yellow fever," Jamie interrupted in a worried voice. "I've heard of it, of course, but how deadly it is?"

"As he says himself, it is lethal in ten to fifty per cent of the cases, more if the doctor is incompetent. John is a strong man and is likely to survive. However..."

Claire had met this disease in the past. When she lived in Boston, she had to treat a few patients infected abroad. Even in her days, the only sound answer to yellow fever was to vaccinate. One could only treat sick people's symptoms, not cure them. John's letter was precise enough that she could get an idea of the illness's progress in Jamaica. When he wrote, the disease had been raging for nine days in Kingston. John must have been bitten by a contaminated mosquito within the first two days, then incubated three or four days. The first phase of the disease had lasted three days, which was usual, followed by a short period of remission. Less than a day in John's case. The yellow phase usually also lasted three days. It was the most dangerous stage of the disease, with digestive haemorrhages, that the Spanish called "vomito negro", without forgetting the symptoms of which Lord John did not speak, by modesty or pride, like the incapacity to urinate, bleeding gums and eyes,... It looked like the governor did not get to the delirium's stage, but his discourse had an unusual feverishness. The idiocy of a doctor thinking that bleeding is the best remedy for this fever could worsen his condition. Above all, hepatitis or kidney failure could kill him. It did so in fifty per cent of the patients reaching this latter stage of the disease. This last phase generally lasted three to eight days. The letter dated a month earlier.

By now, John Gray may have already died. They exchanged anxious look and Claire resumed her reading with a lump in her throat.

_ "My only regret is the thought that I will not see my son William and Jamie one last time. I know the first is in good hands, thank God. I sent him far from this island and all risk of contamination. My brother Hal will provide for his future. _

Jamie's face froze. Claire grasped his hand with compassion. John had obviously wanted to reassure him with these few words, but the fever had affected his judgment. Reminding Jamie that he could never take care of his son was cruel, even if the intention was praiseworthy. The memory of Brianna came to her mind. Another child Jamie would never know. Claire was also touched by John's consideration for her feelings. If she hadn't known that William was Jamie's son, she would never have realised the significance of these few sentences. Until the end, John had tried to spare her feelings and preserve their relationship. It was difficult to hold back her tears. She had to finish this reading as soon as possible.

_ "As for Jamie, I must ask you to convey my affection to him. I would like him to know how much his friendship meant to me and how sincere and ardent mine was. If there were sometimes differences and misunderstandings between us, I very much regret them and I hope that the memory he will have of me will not be tainted by them. So many things were left unsaid... He must know that I would never have asked him what he was unable to give me. The intimacy I wanted between us was different. I only regret I did not tell him everything I wanted to make him understand the depth and sincerity of this affection. It never faltered, and the comfort of our friendship will support me until the end. I remain and will remain, still his devoted friend and yours Claire. _

_ "I am aware of what I am asking of you, but I beg you to let Jamie know.  _

_ "I wish I had the courage and the time to tell them myself at our last meeting. I cannot stand the idea to let those words unsaid. I still dare to hope to burn this letter and forget that I never put these words on paper. If I die, my steward has orders to send it to you. In that case, I hope you both forgive me for my frankness one day. _

_ "John Gray. " _

The last words of the letter echoed in the room's absolute silence. Claire suddenly realised that they were alone now. Ian, Fergus and Marsali had disappeared without them noticing, leaving them alone in their grief. Jamie's head dropped. He stared at his hands, so tight on his lap that they were livid. Claire couldn't do anything for his pain. She stopped fighting her own and sobbed silently while she folded and unfolded the damned letter.

"What he wrote", Jamie finally said before he had to stop to find his words, "what he says he felt..."

Claire put her hand on one of his. It was frozen.

"I know. I knew it as soon as I saw how he looked at you."

His gaze betrayed his astonishment. It surprised Claire. She sincerely expected her clever husband to realise that she knew.

"And still ye have become friends. Shouldn't ye despise him? Hate him?"

"Why? We both care about you, it's something we have in common. It brought us together.

"I don't understand. You hated Randall."

Claire frowned.

"Do not compare what is not comparable. Will you deny the goodness of Lord John?"

"A sodomite is a sodomite."

Now Claire was angry.

"And then? Are the two terms incompatible? As far as I am concerned, the Church, the Pope and the so-called good morals can go to Hell. Loving one's own sex does not make a man a monster, not when he has the righteousness and honour of Lord John."

Usually, she understood Jamie's aversion to homosexuality. He was in many ways a man ahead of his time, but 18th-century conservatism was as natural to him as the air he breathed. If things had been different, he would have been too good a Catholic to really accept and understand this "perversion", but Jamie liked the idea of freedom too much not to turn away a tolerant eye. Except Randall had put his hands on him and defiled him to the depths of his soul. Claire knew that. She had looked with suspicion at the homosexuals whom she had met since, just as she did the few times she had met a captain in the British army. For months after her return to the 20th century, she had felt the need to wash if Frank touched her. All of this was Black Jack's fault.

And just like that, Claire realised that if John was his friend, Jamie still distrusted him. Randall had perverted this, like everything else. And John may have died ignoring where Jamie's reluctances to accept his friendship came from. He had loved him, knowing the disgust Jamie felt for what he was, but without realising that there was a real wound there that time and friendship could have healed.

Jamie stood up, dropping some Gaelic swear words. Placing his two hands on the lintel of the fireplace, he began to stare at the fire in silence. Gradually, his face regained some composure.

"I ruined our friendship, and he died thinking that I despised him. Until the end, I doubted, thinking that his friendship was only a decoy that he held out to me to obtain from me what he wanted. I was wrong, so wrong."

Claire nodded slowly. She agreed with Jamie, but she was at fault too. Even after this dozen letters exchanged and the friendship that had begun to flourish between them, she always had some doubt. She would never have believed his love to be so disinterested and Lord John so ready to fade in the background if it was Jamie's wish. It was a mistake that was beginning to look criminal know that she could read Lord John's distress that his sincerity would be disregarded. There was nothing they could say or do to correct their error. Claire reached out to Jamie again, but she couldn't find words. She was unsure if she wanted to support him or hoped that he would comfort her. Jamie walked past her without seeing her and left the cabin. Through the window, she saw him sit on the porch and look at the horizon. She dropped the curtain, stifling a sigh, and put away John's last letters with the others. It would take time, but she hoped one day he could reread them and smile when he thought of John.

Finally, Fergus, Marsali and Ian returned and helped Claire to clear the table. As they finished wiping the dishes, Marsali turned to Claire a curious look.

"Fergus told me a bit about this Lord John. He was Jamie's jailer, right? I had no idea they had been friends. Why was he writing to ye then, and not him?"

The two young men who rekindled the fire while talking in low voices went silent, just as curious.

"Misunderstandings and old ghosts have separated them. I fear both wanted to mend it without knowing how to do it."

And now John joined the long cohort of ghosts who followed them. Claire was troubled. Surely, she could have done something. At the very least, she should have assured Lord John that she understood his feelings and appreciated him anyway. A man like him hadn't often had this kind of acceptance. She could have offered him that, at least.

They left in silence. Claire lay down, alone in a sinister and cold bed. Sleep did not come, and she finally got up and went out, rolled up in her blanket to sit next to Jamie. He accepted the quilt she had picked up for him and moved a little to make room for her. Sitting one against the other, heedless of the cold that crept into their bones, they waited silently for dawn.


	2. Jamie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not forgotten this translation and hope to add what come's next soon. Enjoy !

Jamie didn't sleep that night and came to a decision in the early morning. He could not repair the terrible injustice he had done to John. Till the last day, he had distrust him, against his own will. He felt guilty, rightly so, and would be for a long time. There was one thing, however, that he could still do for John. Once the decision had matured overnight, he shared it with Claire during breakfast.

"Sassenach, I have to go to Kingston."

"Of course", approved Claire without giving him time to develop his argument. "When do we leave?"

God, he loved this woman. There were times when he still didn't believe in the miracle that had given her back to her.

"We could leave in two to four days, I think. It would give us time to plan with Fergus and Ian what should be done here."

"I'm sure we can organize everything very quickly, milord," said Fergus. "We have already planned most of the work for the coming months. As long as you make it clear to the tenants who give the orders in your absence and that we put it all in writing, everything should be fine."

"Ye can trust us, uncle," agreed young Ian. "When ye return, the work on the big house will be well advanced, and all the tenants properly housed and fed."

Jamie exchanged a proud smile with Claire when he saw the two young men so confident. They were right, they had supported him so well since their arrival that they had enough solid shoulders to manage everything in his absence.

"Ye're aware that we are talking about an absence of two, three months maybe?", he asked nevertheless, frowning.

His boys nodded. So it was set.

From there, preparations were made at full speed. The tenants, who, for the most part, were once prisoners of Ardsmuir prison, probably wouldn't cause any problem. They respected Jamie too much. He entrusted the finances of the family to Fergus and Marsali, keeping only what was necessary for the trip to Jamaica and back and a little more to face some unforeseen event. As a precaution, he redid his will and wrote that he entrusted the administration of Fraser's Ridge to his son Fergus in his absence. It was also agreed that Ian and Fergus would send letters to the Charleston Inn where they planned to stay on the way there and back. If Fraser's Ridge needed anything, Claire and Jamie could take it with them on the return trip. All of these preparations allowed Jamie's mind to focus on something other than the sad goal of their journey.

Meanwhile, Claire was preparing her doctor's kit. She was ready to fight against the yellow fever's outbreak with all her might, if it was still ongoing when they get in Jamaica. In vain did she tried to hide her concern, but Jamie knew her. She was frustrated that she could only cure the symptoms but couldn't stop the spread of the disease. Above all, she feared that they would fall ill in the absence of a "vaccine". Jamie refused to worry about that. It would be God's will, and he trusted Claire's ability.

  
Finally, they set off after two days of frenetic agitation. Jamie was glad to move. He was getting restless. If the circumstances had been different, he might even have enjoyed hitting the road. But they worried too much and went as fast as they could, and the journey was trying. Not physically, although the road to Charleston was long and not always well laid out. Mentally, it was exhausting. They were fighting the pain of losing a dear but unloved friend. Jamie knew they couldn't let their thought fester like that, but he couldn't stop. Over and hover, he was asking himself questions he knew he would have no answers for.

Sometimes he even wondered if he really wanted those answers.

They anxiously waited on Charleston until they found a merchant ship going to Haiti and who agreed to help them get near their destination when he learned they were the governor's friends. He still refused to go to Kingston itself. The epidemic was still going strong in Jamaica.

Every captain in Charleston knew of it and refused to get too close to the island unless absolutely necessary. At least frustration offered a temporary derivative to these thoughts that were looping in his head.

The frustration got worse once they were on the ship. Jamie had nothing else to focus on, not even his seasickness, gone with a careful use of acupuncture. Claire was getting restless and occupied herself pursuing the ship's doctor to convince him to abandon some of his backward methods. The crew glared at Jamie, asking him to control his wife. He did nothing, of course, glad she had something to channel her energy when he had nothing to do. He spent his time going in circles on the deck or in their narrow cabin. He sat only to reread John's letters. Jamie didn't ask for them, but Claire had nonetheless given him the thick package just before they left Fraser's Ridge. It had taken him a while to find the courage to open it, but now, he knew them by heart and couldn't stop rereading them.

In doing so, he realized a few unpleasant things. He had convinced himself that Lord John only had some unhealthy infatuation for him that passed long ago. That was how he could become his friend. Alas, each letter stated the opposite. Worse, the Englishman knew Jamie thought he had stopped this folly and had done nothing to dispel his falses ideas. Jamie should have been furious at having been so deceived. If he had known, their friendship would have been irreparably damaged. Suspicion would have raised at each of their meetings like it had tainted the beginning of their friendship. He would have regretted losing John's friendship, but by hiding the truth from him, John had abused his trust. It was something Randall would have done, not the honourable man that Jamie believed John to be. Getting inside his head, giving him the false impression that he was in control of the situation and that he wanted what was happening to him before destroying it and taking what he did not want to give, all this was Randall.

Jamie kept rehearsing the idea over and over again, feeling anger building up before falling just as suddenly. He was unfair to John. His disgust spoke for him. John wasn't a man like Randall. He never was. The man he had known and who revealed himself almost unwillingly in his letters to Claire was different. His writing words seemed alternately touching and vile. Touching, because Jamie could see their sincerity, but vile despite everything because that affection was neither wanted nor desirable. Sometimes, Jamie even felt a surge of hatred in him. If he had had John on hand at these times, he would have been able to beat the bugger until he bled. At least Jamie would have agonized him with reproaches. Didn't John know that thing was offensive, reproved by God and men? To impose it on others …

Truly, with his confession, Lord John had soiled the memory of their friendship.  
Claire joined him into the cabin, which distracted him from his thoughts. His wife saw the letters lying on the bed and his knees, shook her wet cloak, hung it on the wall and came to sit by his side.  
"The captain told me to stay downstairs. He didn't want me to interfere with the manoeuvres. We're in sight of the coast, and he thinks we should dock in two hours."

Jamie nodded absently. They sat next to each other, listening to the sounds of the boat and the busy crew above them.

"Didn't he ken?" he finally asked, addressing the subject that had been plaguing him for weeks.

"What?"

"That what he felt for me was an abomination. I ken he was a Protestant, but their pastors ken as well as our priests that it's against divine law. He couldn't pretend ignorance."

"I grew up in the Catholic religion too", sighed Claire, "I heard the same things in the mouths of priests, pastors and even of rabbis. When I left 1967 to join you, homosexuality was still on the list of mental illnesses."

"Ye mean he was crazy?"

"It was what I was taught, that it is a form of madness, just like schizophrenia, I do not know what you call it today. But it's more complicated than that. There is a movement in the medical community, which demands that homosexuality be removed from the list. Some say it's something innate that you can't prevent or cure. It was a real debate when I left, but I did not follow it carefully."

"He wouldn't have had a choice?"

"If this theory is valid, no. John couldn't have been more attracted to women than I am. I did not choose to be attracted to you. Why should it be otherwise for him?"

Jamie felt overwhelmed by the question. The whole conversation left him with a strange taste in his mouth. He was going to have to mull over it for a long time to get an opinion on the subject. For the moment, he contented himself to end the conversation with a growl. Then, he started to gather their things in the only bag they had taken with them. Claire smiled and started to help him; she had told him many times how much she had missed this sound during their separation. When they had gathered everything, all they could do was to wait for someone to tell them that it was time to reach the mainland. If they were lucky, the port authorities had not set up a blockade. Jamie thanked Heaven and Lord John for the hundredth time for sending William elsewhere in time.

It was a relief to set foot ashore. Now they were able to act instead of rehashing their dark ideas. The ship's small boat stationed along the dock just long enough for Claire and Jamie to set foot on the wooden pontoon. The sailor looked worried and looked everywhere as if he expected sick people to come out from under the planks. Claire had guaranteed that unless the sailors were stung by a mosquito, they were not in danger. Most of the crew hadn't believed her. However, if rats transmitted the plague, Jamie was not surprised that mosquitoes could do the same with other diseases. The merchant ship was already beginning to manoeuvre to move away and line up more than a reasonable distance from the port, but close enough to carry out its business.  
Jamie placed his bag over his shoulder and winced as he looked around. The port, swarming with activity during their previous stay, was almost deserted.

"They fear contagion", sighed Claire, "and hope that staying at home will protect them."

"It works?"

"If they are lucky and good mosquito nets at each window and around the beds. Suffice to say that only luck can help them. I told you, only the symptoms are manageable. How do we start?"

She was obviously itching to look for a health centre or other place where she could be helped, but Jamie did not take his eyes off the stone house above the harbour and its miasmas. Claire followed his gaze, nodded with a sombre look and took the first step. Without the usual crowd of locals, merchants and slaves, it did not take them long to reach the governor's house and present themselves as friends of Lord John.

The servant at the entrance, a sullen man who was sweating profusely in his livery, gauged them up and down and motioned for them to follow him. He said nothing and entrusted them after a short whispered exchange to another servant. This one was obviously of superior rank but equally sullen composition and he escorted them inside the house. He was also a taciturn man, and he was advancing quickly, visibly in a hurry to get rid of them and return to his usual activities. Unless it was the fear of contagion. There were few servants in the halls, far from what one would expect from a governor's house, and the few men and women who circulated all wore the same suspicious air. Their guide, looking like a Cerberus, stopped abruptly at the door of the office where Lord John had received them almost a year earlier.

"I'll see if the governor can receive you", he declared.

He entered and closed the door behind him.

Claire and Jamie exchanged a grimace. They were equally offended by the man's attitude and even more by the speed at which John Grey had been replaced. Jamie may have been far from peace with the memory of the man, but that it only took a few weeks for his replacement to make room and get comfortable was exasperating, especially for a temporary replacement. It was far too early for England to have already been informed and sent his successor to take its station. The cold anger that had been brewing in him for weeks, until then directed against himself and John woke up, delighted to find an external target. When the servant came out, after barely a few moments and stepped aside to let them in, Jamie entered the office, ready to storm the room.  
Lord John's astonished, delighted, but tired smile, sitting and working behind his desk, stopped him in his tracks.

The three of them stared at each other for a long moment in silence, too shocked to find something to say. Jamie felt his legs weaken. So, he closed the door behind Claire to lean on it. He hoped it would suffice for him to catch his breath and some semblance of reason. Finally, John shook his head in disbelief.

"When Francis said you were there to see me... I couldn't believe it. What are you doing here? For God sake, I wrote to you that the epidemic was still going strong!"

Claire was the one who answered.

"You wrote that, but you know me enough, I think, to realize it wouldn't stop me. Especially since you wrote to us that you were dead. You are doing pretty well for a corpse, I must say."

To say he was well was some kind of exaggeration. Jamie had never seen his friend so pale and emaciated. John's hand shook when he put down his quill in his inkwell. Realizing what Claire was saying, he managed to turn even paler. He put his hand to his mouth to try to hide an appalling expression.

"You can't mean ...Tell me, which letter did you receive exactly?"

From his coat, Jamie pulled the bundle of letters and took out the culprit. Lord John scanned it quickly. Shame and mortification appeared on his face.

"I had ordered this letter to be burned and I wrote you another one instead that should have been sent in its place. I think I understand what happened. Everything has been going badly here for some time. Many members of my staff have died or become ill."

"And some incompetent fool has misunderstood your instructions."

"Yes", John grimaced. "I can only hope that you are the only one to have received those bad news, or I will see half of my family landing shortly to demand the repatriation of my body and yell above my corpse that I was a fool to accept this post."

Claire smiled.

"It would be understandable. That is pretty much the reason why we are here, after all."

He was speechless after that which awoke Jamie's annoyance one again. It was a welcome distraction because now that the amazement to see John alive had dissipated, he found himself embarrassed to be in the same room as him.

"Did you really think that we were going to let strangers gather your things and take care of returning them to England?"

"I must admit that I did not expect so much from our friendship, but I thank you with all my heart."  
The tender smile he gave Jamie and Jamie only would have made him leave the room immediately if he was not already firmly pressed against the door. He did not know how he could have convinced himself that Lord John had stopped giving him that kind of looks. His reaction did not go unnoticed and the Englishman looked away with shame. Jamie did the same and let his gaze wander around the room. He then noticed the closed shutters, the medicine bottles on a console and the blankets curled up on the sofa and the chair on the other side of the room. Lord John should have stand up to welcome then at some point. Instead, he was shivering even if the room was sizzling hot. They were all sweating.

Claire, who had mostly stayed in the background, frowned suddenly. She was noticing the same things. She went around Lord John's desk. An imperative gesture told Jamie to follow her. Guessing her intention, he began to unpack their things to take out her doctor's bag.  
"I am delighted to see that this misunderstanding is behind us and that you are alive and well. Now take off your shirt."

John nearly choked and gaped, staring at her half-incredulous, half-shocked.

"I beg your pardon?"

Claire rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag.

"There is nothing under there that I haven't seen in dozens of other patients. Now that I'm here, I might as well check up on yours. I don't trust doctors around here."

"Madam, I assure you..."

"Do not even try to make me believe that you are fully recovered Lord John. I must already bear this kind of behaviour from Jamie each time he's injured, I will not accept it from you. Take off your shirt."

With a glance, John implored Jamie's help. He shrugged, more than a little amused by the scene. Claire was a doctor before anything else in this kind of situation and would not be persuaded to leave the governor alone. Jamie had no intention of trying to stop her. He was himself more than a little worried when he looked at Lord John's pale figure. Finally, without protesting any more, but with reluctance, their friend obeyed. Once shirtless, Lord John could no longer hide the extent to which the illness had made him suffer. He was so thin it looked like he had no food for one week or two. He had survived, but death had been close. Claire failed to hide her worry as she placed her hand on his forehead then her hear against his chest. She told him to breath loudly then quickly.  
"So?" asked Jamie when she stopped listening.

"I am not sure. I would need a stethoscope."

Lord John frowned

"To observe the chest?" he translated. What for? Isn't that what you just did?"

"I should have suspected that you spoke Greek as well as Jamie", Claire smiles as she straightened up. "Well, I'll try to find something to make one. This will give you time to discuss literary classics, or something else."

She often said that Jamie sometimes looked so stoic that she was unable to decipher his feelings, but at that moment, he was the one who could not interpret the look she gave him. Was it a warning, a threat? The fact remains that after this stare, she ostensibly closed the door behind her and left them alone.

The door reopened a second later.

"I forgot, Jamie, force him to get away from this cursed desk before he decides going back to work is a good idea. I want to see him lying down when I get back, not killing himself."  
She disappeared again, refusing to listen to Lord John's protests.

They were alone now. An invisible ghost seemed to float between them. On his chest, John's letters seemed to burn Jamie's skin. He ignored them.

"You heard the lady, my lord", he bowed in the most sarcastic way possible. "Will ye obey or should I force ye to rest?"

He really hoped that Lord John's blush was because of the fever.

"I can manage on my own."

He stood up, but Jamie had to offer him an arm to support him, otherwise, he would have tripped before John even took three steps. Jamie refused to listen to John's claims he was fine and led him to the sofa where he forced him to lie down before burying him under covers. John had stopped his protests. He was shivering, his teeth chattering. He let his head fall on the pillow and closed his eyes. While letting him recover from this effort, Jamie took a seat and came to sit at his bedside. Then, he looked around the room once more and frowned.

"When was the last time ye slept in your bed and not on this uncomfortable horror?"

"I don't have the faintest idea. Since half of those who helped me run this colony decided to flee to the countryside in search of healthier air. Since I escaped this cursed yellow fever grasp. I didn't die, but I don't seem to y heal either."

"I leave medicine to Claire, but it seems to me that a good night's sleep would solve many things."

"A good night's sleep is a luxury when you are a governor for the English crown."

Jamie snorted ironically.

"And I thought being a laird was exhausting. Remind me to notify King Georges of my refusal if he offers me a governorship."

"And I was looking for a replacement... I am very disappointed."

John laughs softly, then he looked at the wall with a haunted look in his eyes. His hand searched for Jamie's. He resisted the urge to refuse him this small comfort.

"What I wrote in my letter..."

"Let's forget it", Jamie whispered, his throat dry.

He hoped that his words did not sound too much like a plea and that Lord John would understand that he had no desire to continue this conversation or to ever speak of this letter again.Lord John shooked his head. He refused to be interrupted.

"I should never have written it, even with the fever which affected my judgment and I swear to you that, if you had never read its content, I would never have mentioned those feelings again. I wasn't thinking straight that day or I would have eaten my pen rather than write them down."

Jamie forced himself not to punch him in the face but tore his hand away from Lord John's. His chair felt on the ground when he got up too quickly. Three angry paces brought him to the centre of the room. A cold rage made his fists clench until he bled.

"I'd prefer to not have ye keep secrets from me and taking me for a fool ye ken?", he spat. "I'd prefer to know the truth rather than hearing another lie come out of your mouth. Do ye deny to have wanted me before? To desire me still when I made clear I would never...?"

A sharped and disabused laugh escaped John's lips.

"I will not deny such evidence. I want you, Jamie, every day as much as the last. To be yours, even for a single moment..."

Jamie heard those words, but he wasn't sure he understood them. It was like his brain refused to think about that subject. "To be yours", John said. It didn't make sense. Randall said "to own you", "to mark you". He wanted to break Jamie. John wanted something else. For the first time, he was beginning to really see the chasm that separated the two men.

"In that's true, why not have taken advantage of me when I was your prisoner or when we were at Helwater?", he finally managed to ask.

His jaw was so tight it hurt. He needed the answer and dreaded it at the same time. Behind him, he heard Lord John rise. He did not turn around, but could easily imagine his broken expression. There was ice in John's voice. The betrayal he couldn't hide hurt Jamie, despite himself.

"We've known each other for a very long time. I hoped this misunderstanding has been cleared long ago. I want to be yours as you belong to Claire and as she is yours, nothing more and nothing less. Really, what kind of man do you think I am, Jamie? Are you going to tell me then that I raised William to be sure I had still a sort of connexion to you? To be sure you never could totally get away from me ?"

The accusation shocked Jamie. It was beyond anything he had ever suspected John wanted from him. He was so mad at John he told things he did not really believe himself. It was not him who had talked, it was this hidden anger that had been brewing for weeks, against John, but especially against himself, against Randall, against all those things that he thought he had put behind him definitively but which re-emerged and brought him back twenty years back. He turned around, determined to correct his mistakes.

"I know men like you", he hesitated, realizing immediately, but too late, that he was making the situation worse instead of repairing the damage.

"Men like me!", cried John with contempt. "I have heard these words enough and even worse in the mouths of despicable people before, but in yours ... Call me sodomite if you want, tell me that my way of life is despicable and condemnable if you think so, but don't accuse me of being capable of this sort of thing. What I do not make me an immoral monster and I am incapable of such villainy, towards you or anyone else!"

"Others did, in the past", said Claire gently.

The two men turned around, startled by her appearance. She had returned without their noticing and her gaze went from one to the other, without judgment. There was a deep sadness in her eyes. With horror, Jamie understood that John had immediately realized what she had just said. John looked at him with horror and compassion.

"Even so, he said, "do you really believe me capable of that?"

Yes, I do, Jamie was close to answer, but this time he managed to stop himself. He took the time to form a sentence that was not an insult that would definitively destroy their friendship. 

"I dinna mean that. Not if I take the time to think about it rationally", he confessed. "I ken ye're a man of honour."

"But you can't think about it rationally," John sighed. "I understand. I understand only too well."

There was a world of unsaid memories that took Jamie's breath away. Until that moment, he had mortally resented Claire for speaking because John had no right to know what Randall did to him. Nobody had the right to know. It may be an ancient wound, but it was still festering twenty years letter. Strangely, John knowing the truth was liberating, perhaps because there was no pity in his eyes.

Jamie was still standing in the middle of the room, blocking the passage to Claire. He stepped aside, gratefully shaking her hand when she passed. It would still take him a while to forgive her completely, but he wanted her to understand that he was grateful that she hadn't let him totally destroy his friendship with John. He felt her hand shiver in his, but she managed to give him a small smile that promised everything would be fine. He wanted to believe her, he really did, but it was hard. Now that anger and grief no longer clouded his judgment, he understood how precious John's friendship was to him and how much he wanted to keep it. He was able to overcome his stupid fears.

While he was thinking, Claire sat and began to auscultate John. She listened to his heart with the instrument she had improvised. Jamie walked over, straightened the chair he had thrown into anger and sat down again. John gave him a long, indecipherable look, then turned his attention back to Claire.

"I owe you my apologies, Claire, for what you just saw. And for my letter."

Claire sniffed exaggeratedly and smiled at him while making him shift so that she could rest her instrument on his back.

"Breathe with your mouth open, and don't apologize. We do not choose who we love. I never told you, but I was married when I met Jamie. I felt so guilty for my attraction, but fate pushed us into each other's arms and I was unable to fight. Would you ever have been able to stop yourself from loving Jamie?"

"No more than convincing myself to stop breathing," he said, looking down.  
"So I will not blame you for not being more successful than me. Have you ever tried to take Jamie from me?"

"Never, from the day I realized how much your loss still hurt him."

"So it's more than some other people I will not name."

The allusion to Laoghaire was directed to Jamie. It was true, John had been much more courteous towards his suffering than Laoghaire and he had not grabbed his pistol upon learning of Claire's return. Once again, he had underestimated John's courtesy. His friend couldn't understand the allusion but another detail caught his attention. 

"I didn't know that you had already been married, Claire."

"A long story that we will tell you one day if you are ready to believe it."

Jamie almost choked and disguised it in a coughing fit. Fergus, Jeny, Ian, the young and the old, all those people they cared about, they had never told them the truth about Claire and her travels. Only Murtagh had been informed, by the force of circumstances, and after careful consideration. That Claire decides so quickly and easily to tell John the truth ... He didn't know how to interpret it. He just knew the idea pleased him. Claire gave him an amused smile, not deceived for a second by his attempt to conceal his amazement.

"You were a friend and support for Jamie during our separation", she said as if nothing had happened. "Without you, maybe I would never have found him alive, I know that. As far as I am concerned, you are a part of our family and you have all my confidence and my affection."  
Jamie was more and more perplexed and he was sure that John felt the same. They hadn't really talked about how John felt about him when they thought he was dead, out of respect for the deceased and because Jamie couldn't talk or think about it without wanting to hit something. He knew his wife, however, and he would have thought that, in the face of a very lively John Gray, she would be showing mistrust and jealousy. On the contrary, she seemed determined to bring them together and to ensure that there would be no more misunderstandings between them.  
Now that he could think calmly, he recognized how relieved he was to see the English alive and to know that their friendship wasn't broken. Despite what he now knew, what he could no longer deny, he wanted this friendship to continue. He was ready to appreciate John as he was and to accept that his love for him was part of his identity. Jamie cared about that bloody English bastard, his tongue-in-cheek humour and his sweet smiles. These were precious things. John's friendship was precious to him, as was the love of Claire, Jenny or the presence at his side of Fergus, young Ian and Marsali. Over time, and shared trials, he had become more than a friend or a confidant. He did not consider him a brother either, this name was reserved for Ian, but Claire was right, John was family.

Without realizing it, Jamie had pulled out John's letters and turned them over and over in his hands. Seeing the last one on top of the package, he opened it again and read it again. Reading it with the writer alive in front of him made it more poignant, despite common sense, and Jamie could no longer deny the sincerity overflowing with each sentence. For twenty years, he had written farewell letters to Claire in which he told her everything he wanted to have had time to say during their last five minutes spent together. This letter was nothing else. Jamie looked up and, briefly, met John's gaze. He saw the apology in his eyes but nothing else. John refused to retract any written world. The letter suddenly seemed hot between Jamie's fingers. He folded the letter and closed his eyes.

He didn't expect to fall asleep, but Claire and John's voices formed a pleasant whisper that he didn't understand and gradually dragged him into semi-consciousness. He dreamed, or something close to it. He was standing in the middle of a thick fog where two things only stood out, the cursed stone that had given him Claire, took her from him and gave her back, and the colour of Jack Randall's red coat. He advanced and pushed, trying to shove the coat and its owner into the stone.

"Do you want help?", asked a voice behind him, a voice he didn't recognize.

"I don't need help", he growled.

He pushed as hard as he could. It didn't matter. Randall was still here. Two white hands landed on his.

"It's not what I asked", John replied, starting to push with him.

Jamie opened his eyes again. His breath was short, his heart racing. He didn't know if he had dreamed or if his thoughts had taken a strange turn in his semi-unconsciousness, but the details were already escaping him. During his short absence, Claire had finished her medical examination and now, seated on the sofa, she was browsing with John a bundle of papers which must have some relation to the state of health of the colony's residents. Hearing him move in his chair, they sent him at the same time a tender and amused smile which further accelerated his heart rate. Of course, Claire's smile always triggered in him that reaction but he would have been unable to swear that John's had not played a role in this sudden acceleration.

Forgive me, Lord, he thought without knowing why, before settling down in his chair and resuming his contemplation of Claire and John.


	3. John

John Gray thought himself to be quite an intelligent, thoughtful man. He was good enough to understand his contemporaries and their desires. When they first met, Claire had struck him as an incredibly transparent woman whose eyes and body had screamed at him to stay as far away from Jamie as possible. He was jealous of her, she was jealous of him, and he was flattered that she saw him as a threat. She wrote to thank him and inform him of their good health. The thought had touched him. Then she began a regular correspondence with him. It had left him speechless. It was rare for him to underestimate a person like that, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. Jamie couldn’t have fallen in love with her if she hadn’t been an exceptional woman. It was hardly surprising that they had become friends over the letters exchanged, despite the jealousy that persisted on both sides. Beyond their love for Jamie, they shared a certain caustic humour and a certain exasperation for human stupidity. After ten letters, John thought he had a good idea of the kind of person Claire was. 

So it annoyed John. He had to admit that he still couldn’t decipher this woman. Nothing she did matched his expectations, from her determination to begin a regular and intimate correspondence with a rival to her behaviour since they were back in Jamaica. She should have hated him, especially after his confession but, on the contrary, she seemed to push Jamie into his arms. He had seen wives send their husbands into the arms of another man before, but it was always out of disgust at who they were and to make sure their sodomite husbands would no longer touch them. The idea of Claire trying to get rid of Jamie was laughable. They were always sending each other loving looks that broke John’s heart every time. However, shortly after their arrival, she started insisting on leaving them alone, claiming that the escort John provided was enough for her to venture into town to meet doctors or the sick and help fight the disease which was finally receding.

Often, Jamie would protest and go with her, but sometimes, he stayed with John. They would then spend hours chatting, seated on either side of John’s desk or in the armchairs of a reception room. John’s heart pounded so hard when their hands occasionally brushed against each other that Jamie had to realize it. However, he didn’t recoil, and John was left to wonder if he was struggling to contain his disdain or if the distrust he had so long hidden was gone. In truth, John didn’t want to know and took advantage of each of these intimate moments, knowing they would end soon enough and that he would be left alone again with his undeclared desires. Every time Claire returned, he told himself that she would soon be tired of seeing him swoon before Jamie’s smile and decide it was time to go home. It would be logical. She had done what she could for his citizens, and, under her care, his health had quickly improved. But again, she surprised him. Each time she just smiled and rolled her eyes, as if she was waiting for something to happen and was annoyed nothing changed. Sometimes John even thought that she was encouraging his affection for Jamie. She looked ready to accept whatever might happen between them, but what woman would agree to that? If their situation was inverted, he would have tried to get rid of Claire for good rather than letting her approach Jamie.

The days went by, and the more he prayed their stay would end soon before he gave in to his desires and came to throw himself at Jamie’s feet and confess to him all the improper things he dreamed of doing to him. At least that way, he would see if the crudeness of his words would scare Jamie away.

A letter from London finally allowed him to approach this dreaded subject. “It appears my successor was about to embark at the time this letter left England.”

“That’s some good news, indeed,” Claire agreed without looking up from the medicine book she was reading, frowning with a visible contempt for the author’s opinions. “If he could arrive before you finish destroying your health in the service of his glorious majesty, I would appreciate it.”

“According to this letter, he should arrive within a month or two, if there are no adverse currents. This should comfort you. You can go home reassured I’ll survive on my one.”

Claire darted a piercing gaze at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leaving you until I’m sure you’re perfectly well. You know what I think about your relapses.”

She had told him so, at length. That damn yellow fever, and the heaviness of his charge, had left him with a weakness. To use Claire’s words, he seemed to catch every virus lying around. She cursed his immune system. Discreetly, he had looked in some medical books left by the late doctor. These words appeared nowhere.

“I think I’ll be able survive a month without you,” he smiled. “I promise that as soon as my replacement arrives, I’ll rest for some time. You won’t have to force me.”

The mere thought of saying goodbye made his stomach ache. Seeing and talking to Jamie every day was a gift he didn’t want to give up. Claire was dear to him now, when she wasn’t suffocating him with her diligent care. She opened her mouth to protest, but Jamie stopped her.

“Our friend is right, Sassenach, he can survive a month without yer constant presence.”

“Thank you.”

Jamie bowed exaggeratedly, then frowned. The look he gave John was deadly serious now.

“Aye. That’s why ye’ll immediately come to stay with us. The air of Fraser’s Ridge will do ye good and allow ye to recoverer at last. Did ye think that I had not noticed that ye lose even more weight since our arrival?”

Claire gave them both a triumphant smile and went back to her reading, obviously considering the matter closed. She was, in fact, right. John tried to protest, but they heard none of his arguments. It was, it seems, his duty as a friend to come and prove he was healthy in person. His enlightened advice, as governor, would be welcome to help their small community settling down. And that way, he wouldn’t make too hasty decisions. Also, William would benefit from the fresh air as much as he did. He soon ran out of arguments, unlike his opponents who fiercely attacked and counterattacked, leaving him speechless and helpless. John would go. He knew he would as soon as Jamie added his voice to Claire’s. The worry in their eyes helped them to make their case. He raised his hands in surrender, cursing his weak heart.

“Of course, you will send us your estimated date of arrival in Charleston, and we’ll meet you there,” Claire happily decided.

John nodded silently. He was sure he heard a threat in her voice. He dared not imagine what would happen to him if he listened to reason and fled across the Atlantic.

It was hard to say goodbye, but it was also a relief for John. Once their ship had fallen towards the horizon, he could concentrate on his daily tasks. Quickly, however, he realized how difficult it was for him to think of anything else. Even his successor’s arrival, faster than expected, and the transfer of power, quite tricky in the epidemic context, couldn’t distract him from the thoughts and fantasies that now invaded his head at all hours of the day and night. He made a terrible impression on his successor. The man must have felt as if he was facing an evaporated man, unable to concentrate on his duty. John couldn’t fault him. The future of the colony, the expenses to be made to develop the port, the measures to contain the epidemic... All this no longer captured fully his attention, and he could only partially blame his persisting weakness. The scent of Jamie, the faint perfume of Claire seemed to accompany him everywhere, and he would wake up sweating, convinced he had felt a bare, muscular arm envelop him. Even in broad daylight, he suddenly thought he saw them at the end of a street or at the corner of a corridor. He had to refrain himself from rushing towards those shadows born of his imagination. John wanted to beg them to tell him if he had dreamed, if he had understood their invitation correctly, and if he really had a hope of obtaining what he wished for so many years.

Finally, the day of his deliverance came. John left Jamaica without regrets, with the feeling of having done his duty there. To be released from those crushing responsibilities was a relief. Would the King ask him to do it again, he would accept because it was his duty, but he hoped that he would never have to take on such responsibilities again. He was done with ambition and ambitious people. A quiet life, in a secluded place, raising William while only looking after his land and his books, would be more than enough for him. Jamie had made the right life choice. John also cursed the Scotsman and his wife for coming to see him and awakening all his desperate hopes.

Life on a ship was slow. It calmed him down and allowed him to think more calmly. John knew what he had to do. To run carelessly to Jamie with an open heart was to run towards a death trap. He would not survive rejection this time. He had to return to England.

His decision lasted until his reunion with William. When he jumped into his arms, then pulled away, his eyes accusing him of leaving him for so long, John thought he saw Jamie’s face when he would realize he wasn’t coming. The child looked so much like his father that it was sometimes worrying. So yes, John should have run away from Jamie, but he couldn’t deny him the one chance he might ever have to see his son again. This was the only reason John set sail for Charleston and not on the first ship sailing to Europe.

At least that’s what he tried to convince himself of. If he had been alone, without obligations and without ties, he probably would have also given in to his genuine desire. Claire must have been right. Sometimes, when she saw him still working by candlelight as dawn broke, she yelled that he must have been a masochist. She had to explain what she meant. John didn’t know the word, but he agreed with her. If he wanted to hurt himself, falling on his sword would have been much faster and less painful than a trip to North Carolina. Giving up, he wrote them a letter and set off with the next boat for Charleston. Once there, he played one last time with the idea of turning back, knowing that he wouldn’t. During the twelve days he spent with William waiting, not once he looked in the port's direction.

They finally arrived on a late evening. John was finishing his dinner and reading in an inn. William was sleeping upstairs, exhausted from a day running around the inn yard playing with his wooden sword. The Frasers were tired and dirty from the road but smiled back at him. They sat next to him and devour his leftovers while they waited for their own meal. They only exchanged a few banalities and platitudes about the roads’ state and the weather between the Caribbean and America. Still, there was something strange floating in the air, something that made the hair on John’s arms stand on end. Finally, taking pity on Claire, who was falling asleep while trying to appear interested in the conversation, he offered to let them rest. His proposition was met with general agreement.

Claire and Jamie’s room was at the end of the building. His was the opposite way. John said goodbye to them on his doorstep before hesitating as he closed it.

“Willie is sleeping, but maybe it will be easier for you to meet him now?”

He meant that Jamie wouldn’t have to hide his emotions this way. His friend understood that. Smiling softly, but with a sad look, Claire kissed Jamie and grabbed the key to their room.

“Don’t make me wait too long, or I may fall asleep without you.”

“If only I could meet her too. Brianna,” Jamie replied with a sob.

“I know, and I’m sure she would be happy for you.”

On this cryptic exchange that John pretended not to have heard, she walked away. He opened his door wider and lit a candle, which he handed to Jamie. His friend refused, showing him with a smile how his hand was shaking. Moved as much as he was, John guided him to the small bed and lit William’s face. His own gaze did not linger on the child, he knew his face by heart. John watched Jamie’s face, which was filled with violent emotions. After a long moment, he leaned over to William and kissed his brown curls a light kiss, then straightened up. Silently, John walked him back to his door and gently closed it behind them. The hallway candles lightened up the tears on Jamie’s cheeks. John would have liked to take him in his arms.

“I could never thank ye enough for taking care of William,” he finally said.

“I did not do it for that purpose.”

“I ken that. But....”

At a loss for words, Jamie took John in his arms and hugged him for a short moment. He breathed, releasing the pressure that must have built up along the way. John gave his hug back, trying not to think about the fact that they had never stood so close to each other and that his scent would accompany him all night, more than likely preventing him from sleeping. Finally, after a long moment, Jamie released John, muttered a few words in Gaelic and walked away. John’s heart took a long time to regain a normal rhythm. He was right, he hardly slept that night.

When he came down the stairs with William the next morning, he saw that Jamie hadn’t slept either. Only Claire seemed suitably rested and smiled as she introduced herself to William. No matter how carefully he looked, John saw no sign of jealousy, just intense sadness that she was trying to hide. He said nothing. He thought he knew why it was so hard for her, but Claire had to decide if she wanted to tell him or not. Jamie had said nothing to him either, and he tried not to be hurt by the realization. Quietly, he let the Frasers and William meet each other, which was easily done. No one talked about the tears in Jamie’s eyes. Once the introductions were made, it was time to go. Even though the Frasers were tired by the trip, everyone wanted to get away from Charleston’s bustle.

Never had John made such an uneventful journey. In London, good society amused themselves by telling appalling stories about the colonies’ dangers. These people would have been disappointed to see them progress without effort in the hinterland. To tell the truth, John was a bit disappointed. He didn’t regret the absence of bandits, bloodthirsty Indians, or violent predators, but the lack of action left him too much time to think.

He would often get left behind and follow them from afar, his eyes fixed on Jamie’s back, wondering over and over what he was doing there and what he was hoping for. He couldn’t believe Jamie would ever offer him more than his friendship. If Jamie now accepted what he was, it was only out of pity, and if John wanted things from Jamie, pity was not one of them. And even if Jamie had invited him out of true friendship, if he didn’t feel pity but really accepted it, John didn’t believe Jamie’s friendship would ever be enough. He came to close to death for that. At the height of his fever, as he raved and burned in bed, the only coolness had come from the touch of Jamie’s lips on his lips and forehead. A hallucination, but one that told him everything he needed to know. If he loved William, it was the memory of Jamie that would have guided him to the grave. The memory of those kisses which had never taken place and which would never take place obsessed him. He would not lie to himself any longer about how much he wanted Jamie’s smiles and kiss. Needed them.

It was too late to take William and turn bridle. Still, John knew that nothing awaited him at Fraser’s Ridge except the promise of heartbreaking farewells, for him, for Jamie, for William. Three days, a week at most, and they would have to say goodbye to the mountains and woods of Carolina. They would stay long enough to reassure Claire and Jamie about his health, to let Jamie enjoy his son’s affection when he was too young to ask dangerous questions, and they would leave. That would break his heart, but it was necessary. Thus, he would at least keep his dignity and his self-esteem. He couldn’t live listening to his heart jumping every time Jamie turned toward him. Sometimes John thought he saw a sparkle in Jamie’s gaze that he had never seen except in his dreams. This, more than anything else, told how dangerous this trip was for his state of mind.

At last, Fraser’s Ridge appeared. John almost cried from relief. The trip had been more tiring for him than he had expected, so much that Claire was giving him inquisitive glances, obviously expecting him to develop a new fever or die in a coughing fit anytime. He, of course, made a point of disappointing her.

The real reason for his relief, however, had nothing to do with his health. The mere thought of spending another night in the open air, so far away and so close to Jamie, was unbearable. He dreamed of a bed and a room that he would not have to share with his fantasies’ object. However, Jamie quickly shattered his hopes. He gave him a tour of their small community, introduced his residents, then showed him the big house they were building.

“There’s still work to be done inside, uncle Jamie,” Young Ian admitted. “But it’s livable. Aunt Claire’s infirmary is ready to welcome her. There is a bed and a room ready for you, leaving room for Lord John and his son in our cabin.”

John couldn’t miss Ian’s sidelong glance at William. Obviously, he understood who the father was. Jamie didn’t seem to be thrilled by that plan.

“I imagine there’s a bed in Claire’s infirmary?” He smiled when he saw his nephew nod. “So we will not burden ye. There’s enough room for the four of us to settle in there.”

John didn’t understand immediately what he meant. Dinner in Fergus and Marsali’s cabin ended. William was half-dead to the world and was laid in the nearest bed. After the long travel, he deserved a full night of sleep. John followed Claire and Jamie to their new home. All along the way, the couple exchanged strange looks. Awkwardly, he wished them good night and opened the door to the infirmary. He was about to enter, but Jamie’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“We canna say goodbye like that. Would ye like a last drink?”

He made his offer in an unusually awkward tone. John hesitated but followed him into what would soon be the dining room. A fire was burning in the room. It was empty, excluding a bench, a table and a cupboard. From it, Jamie took out two glasses and a bottle of liquor, which he placed on the table. Grabbing it, John sniffed it before pushing it away. The smell was disgusting. Still, he didn’t protest when Jamie served them. He sat down on the bench to take a sip. Once Jamie did the same, John realized Claire hadn’t followed them. They drank in silence, aware of the tension that reigned in the room. John hadn’t felt one this strong between them in years, but he didn’t know what to say or do to dissipate it.

“It’s a beautiful house”, he said at last to break the silence. “A beautiful land.”

He had said it earlier, but Jamie nodded.

“Aye. Or, well, not yet, but at least it will be soon.”

“It was what you dreamed of, wasn’t it? A house of your own, where to live with Claire.”

“God was good enough to give me the patience to wait for her when I no longer believed I would see her again,” Jamie admitted gravely. “Without my family, without yer friendship, I dinna think I would have lasted long.”

“I’m happy for you both.”

They exchanged a quick smile before resuming their drinks in silence. Jamie finally raised his head and stared at John strangely.

“And ye haven’t seen everything yet. The land, the forests, the river... I’ll show you all of this tomorrow. There’s enough here to support many families. Here I am laird again, and with the blessing of His Majesty George III.”

“Quite an ironic fate. I hope I have time to see everything before I leave.”

Jamie gauged him speculatively.

“And when do you plan to leave?”

“Soon. It’s necessary.”

“Really?”

“Why not?” John asked without hiding his anger. “What is it that would keep me here? Your friendship is precious to me, Jamie. You know how much it is. However, we must admit that this is not my place. You have your life here, with Claire. I cannot and do not want to interfere.”

“And if I offered you a place? If Claire did it too?”

The challenge was clear in Jamie’s voice. John wanted to slap him. With a shaking hand, he put down his glass and stood up. He could see too well now. Claire and Jamie’s meetings, their insistence that he came. He was ashamed for them, for himself. A disgusting taste spread through his mouth, and the alcohol was not to blame.

“You have already offered yourself to me to make sure that I would take care of William. That day I was too shocked to complain as I should have, but I will not allow you to offer yourself out of pity.”

Jamie stood up just as quickly as he did, knocking the bench back down. He was livid.

“Do ye think that I hold ye in such low esteem? No, dinna answer. I have indeed proven this in the past. I didn’t trust ye. I mocked our friendship and didn’t have faith in yer honour. But John, I swear to ye, by all that I hold sacred, that I offer nothing here out of pity.”

John took a few steps back and found the wall which gave him the necessary support to stand. He closed his eyes and placed a hand over them. He couldn’t meet Jamie’s gaze. If he did, he didn’t know what he would do. However, he heard his approach and felt his hand rest on his shoulder.

“Claire and I...”

John laughed. It sounded like a sob.

“Don’t tell me that’s her idea.

“We talked,” Jamie continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “At length. There are things I never talked about, even to her. And Claire was there to pull me out of the abyss I had fallen. It scarred me for life, ye ken. I wish it never happened, if only because it would have allowed me to be fairer to you.”

As it could have satisfied John to be judged more fairly by Jamie. Outraged, he emitted an offended sneer. Jamie answered with a sad burst of laughter.

“I know, I could never have offered ye more, then. But Claire and I have talked about what ye are, about yer letter... It changed the way I think about ye, John, in more than one way. I denied your feelings for me, but you are... I care very much about ye, John.”

“I’m not Claire.”

Jamie laughed again.

“I think I noticed that, I must say. John, I don’t exactly know how I feel for ye, if I can love you like you love me and how I love Claire. What I do know is that ye mean a lot to us both. Ye’re a part of me whether or not I wanted it. Morality can go to hell. I would like to know if I can love you back. Don’t you want to know?”

John struggled to keep his lips and eyes closed. He was boiling but didn’t know if it was anger, desire or apprehension. Obviously, he wanted to know. What he didn’t want was to be hurt just to please Jamie’s curiosity. However, it is difficult to refuse something that you have been calling for almost ten years. When Jamie brushed his lips with his, John almost grabbed them in hunger. Jamie groaned but pressed more firmly against him. John knew perfectly it was a mistake that would be impossible to fix. Jamie would regret his actions, and John would just have to leave, knowing that he ruined everything. It didn’t matter at the moment, tomorrow would come soon enough to regret. He opened his eyes. If it was a mistake, he was going to enjoy every moment of it until it was too late.


End file.
